no more pity, no more rain
no more empty praises
no more noisy voices without faces in that scary dark place
it doesn't have to rhyme, does it? how boring the same thing is
but the madness drains the life out of us
how lovely would it be, to be a doll
made just for you
every stitch made with love
a heart made of cotton and string
you could give them a smile
like no other...
but that's just sad.
far too sad.
in time, they will be discarded
smiling forever
though one day
cotton or flesh will feel nothing
make the feeling worth something
or do you feel surrounded by junk?
View User's Journal
A Conversation with Myself
If you're not me, you'd only be here if you went out of your way to look.
Turn back, or buckle in, bucko.
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